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Wednesday, January 21, 2004

the post office... I have a theory on the post office and their agents... in Italy... they give them IQ test. If they are smart, they won't get hired.

No offense.. the post office in Italy, especially in small town, could be compared to a spiral like Hell... where one just keep sinking.

Well, this is due to the fact that people pay their bills there, they collect their pension, as well as using it for mail service. So there's usually to line... the yellow one for the mail and the green one for all the rest... and it is like... the worse case scenario to get stuck into that one. First of all... I don't get why Italians still pay their bills at the post office instead of using their bank account, maybe they don't trust the bank, maybe they are afraid that if they are charged too much they will not get their money back (as I said previously... complaint is an Alien word). But all the bills, phone, gas, water, garbage, electricity... they all have to be paid there. On the same line old people collect their pension. SOme of them speak italian some of them don't. This is due to the fact the before WWII not everybody could afford to go to school and finish ninth grade. My grandma only went to school for five years, my great auntie for six (she is the only one in the family is very produ of it and always shows off for it).

so at times the lines are very slow because of miscomunication problem between the old lady/man speaking dialect and the post agent (who speaks dialect too.. but hey they are all dumb!).

Another characteristic of the post agent in Italy is... they are all lazy... they have this thing that we call Flemma (which could be translated into "turtle like pace"), they are not very kind either. So this is one of the little adventures I had at the post office once.

I was standing in line right behind the yellow line... a dude behind me cuts in front.
Deda: yo, stay in line.
Dude: you were not moving further.
Deda: yo read the sing, stay behind the yellow line.. so I did... move back.

When somebody cuts in front of you in italy... it is not only a great offense but really dangerous... it could cause a riot (and I can see people stacking a couple of shovels and forks in their bags, just in case) and the perp can be crucified on the spot.

I finally get to the lady and I say that I need to do priority mail, reccomended, to the united states (there used to be this thing that if the package was not bigger than 90 cm... height, lenght, depth... and below 2 kg - 1 pound more or less - it would not cost more than 8 dollars to send it, now it's 15! they doubled the price overnight!!! what a teft).

the lady looks at me and says: you can't do reccomended mail to the states.
deda: I always did, it's 8,8 euros if the size of the package is 90 cm and below 2 kg.
lady: it's impossible.
deda: get the catalog.

Shit, the catalog it too far away and I know the lady would not move her ass away from the chair to get it. Wow, what a mythological creature a postal agent is.... half man half chair... it's a brand new type of centaurus: a chairtaurus.

lady: I am sure u cannot do it... let's do priority instead!!
Deda: no wait!!! don't do stuff to my package I don't want... do what I say. I always did it.. you can do it.

Now I realize why she won;t do it... the stamps... the stamps for the reccomended mail are in the office.. way too far for her!

Deda: okay trust me just... do it.
lady: then we do surface mail... it's cheaper eh?
Deda: (upset) call me your boss please?
lady: (in shock) why?
Deda: I want your service to be worth my money....

the people behind me is getting frustrated...
a man: and call her the boss already.

The boss peers from the door of the office and I yell: Don't move yet! while you are there... could you fetch her the stamps for the reccomended stamps and the catalog please?

So the guy comes by fetches the catalog and the stamps and asks me: what seems to be the problem.
So I explain the situation and he smiles: yah, it's 8,8 euros!!!

So I finally grin and get my package done properly!!!!

the lady says: I did not know u could do that!
deda: (together with some 4 guys behind me) that's what I (she) was telling you for 15 minutes!

So she take the stamps, the sticker and she has that print thingy that she slams on my package as hard as she can (what a heavy hand!!!) and she reeeeaaaally takes her time to do so. So i leave and while I am putting my money back in the wallet the guy that was behind me is asking for some service and she says: no we can't do that.
guy: okay call me your boss
and the lady: arlight we'll do it!!!

And she finally gets off her chair.

In the end I realized one thing... the post office in my home town has bars between the postal employee and the customers. Truth is those poor agent looks at life through bars and they must feel like being in jail all the time. Maybe the felt they did something wrong in their previous life or something... so they feel compelled to treat everyone else like... poop under their shoes.

How sad migh their life be!!!! while out here, in the line... everything's so grand!!!

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